Setne and the Amazing Technicolour Dreamboat
by SpellCleaver
Summary: "Hi! I'm Sadie Kane. Remember me? So, I'll make this quick. I'm backstage at Brighton's Theatre Royal, Carter's onstage probably making a fool of himself (as usual) and Setne is glaring at me from where he's immobilised with his fetching pink bracelets and Elvis suit. You know, when I called Setne 'that old Elvis impersonator', I was joking. Does nobody get that?" / Oneshot.


**This was written for my friend, who came up with the idea that is this fic when we went to see the play ourselves, and helped with a few of the lines. If there are any inaccuracies to the books, characters or the play, I'm very sorry; I haven't read or seen it in over eight months.**

 **To Tamsin: Consider it a well-done-for-surviving-your-GCSEs-gift.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own The Kane Chronicles, or Joseph and the Amazing Technicolour Dreamcoat, and they belong tot their creators respectively.**

* * *

 _ **~ Sadie**_

We didn't mean to steal anything: the coat, the actor, or even the show. But we couldn't help it. It's what makes us so special.

Okay, first things first. Hi! I'm Sadie Kane. Remember me?

It's been a while. And we won't be sending this recording to the chap who usually publishes our adventures, because. . . it's probably too short to be published. And Carter would literally kill me if this got out to the general public.

So, I'll make this quick. I'm backstage at Brighton's Theatre Royal, Carter's onstage probably making a fool of himself (as usual) and Setne is glaring at me from where he's immobilised with his fetching pink bracelets and Elvis suit.

You know, when I called Setne 'that old Elvis impersonator', I was _joking_. Does nobody get that?

So. Where to begin. I supposed it all started when I dragged the entire Twenty First Nome to England, with the infamous words: _What could go wrong?_

* * *

Shelby had scribbled on the bottom of the poster advertisement, Felix's penguins were waddling around leaving water stains in the carpet, and Carter was trying and failing to restore order.

Initially, I'd thought it was a brilliant idea to come and see Joseph and the Amazing Technicolour Dreamcoat with our wonderful initiates and baboon and crocodile. After all, it was only a short train ride from London to Brighton, and me and my mates used to come yearly. Nothing had gone wrong before.

But we're the Kanes. How naϊve can you get?

So now we stood in the lobby of the Theatre Royal. Carter was shouting over the din at the kids, and Walt was over by the ticket booth trying to get our thirty or so pre-booked tickets (we'd grown a bit in the past few months) without him calling security on us. Carter's ever helpful girlfriend, Zia Rashid, was standing near the back with me, and laughing at the disgruntled expressions of the people waiting in line.

"Why did we bring Philip again?" Zia asked. I followed her gaze to the very obtrusive bulge in Walt's breast pocket.

"Because," I began. "It does no harm to bring our lovely reptilian friend to experience the same culture we are, and to see modern day representations of Ancient Egypt." There was a pregnant pause, broken only by Zia's raised eyebrow. "Also because I know there's a river in this, and Kanes don't have very good experiences with rivers, generally needing Philip to rescue us."

"I see." Zia replied. "And I suppose no one will wonder why Walt have an awkward lump in his pocket? It's not exactly subtle."

"Kanes don't do subtle." I replied, with, I'm willing to admit, a certain amount of pride. "Besides, they'll probably think it's his phone. One hears that teenager's lives revolve around those strange little boxes."

Zia gave me a pointed look. Looking back, I think that may be a reference to the excessive (and obsessive) texting I do with Liz and Emma when I get a break from teaching the initiates. "And Khufu?" She asked, with a slight strain of exasperation. "Was bringing him really necessary?"

"Leave him alone in Brooklyn House, and when we get back we'll find no Oreos left." I said, quite wisely, if I do say so myself. "Or Cheerios."

Zia conceded the point with a nod.

Felix poked me at that moment and started talking. "This queue is awful long, isn't it? We should stop to get some tea and Ribena. Maybe visit the Queen and queue some more in the rain. And then go shopping for tweed."

I gaped at him. "Was that supposed to be a British accent?" He nodded, looking pleased with himself.

"That is not a British accent. Do I speak like that?" Felix shook his head. "Then what makes you think anyone else would speak like that?"

"But the movies say-" he started.

"The movies lie."

He frowned as he tried to fit this into his worldview. Bless him, he tries. But his media-directed views, on the other hand... A bit iffy.

I turned to look at Walt, who was now trying to unfold the roll of tickets he was given like an accordion. "I think," he said, squinting at the numbers on them. "That we have seats one to twenty five in the second row, and twenty to twenty five in the third row."

Once he heard that, Carter looked up from he was coaxing Felix into banishing his penguins, and like the lost boy he was, looked to me for help. "Sadie?" He asked. "Which way do we go?"

I pretended to consider it, before pointing straight ahead and rolling my eyes. I've been here loads, and whilst I admittedly may have never been in the front rows, I certainly know which direction they're in.

Carter just gave me a sceptical look, the ungrateful boy, hefted Shelby into his arms before she further graffitied any advertisements, and gestured in a sweeping motion towards the door. "Lead the way, then."

I huffed my annoyance, but grudgingly did as he asked. I mean, he's meant to be the pharaoh after all.

* * *

The play was fun. I'd seen it so often that I'm pretty sure I annoyed Carter to the depths of the Duat and back by reciting the lines before the actors did it themselves. But it was a new experience listening to Joseph discuss the dreams he had about his own superiority with Julian spelling out the word ' _conceited_ ' in hieroglyphics above the stage. If the actors noticed them, they were very good at their job, and didn't react.

I mean, it was all perfect. Sure, it got irritating with Zia sitting to my right muttering about all the inaccuracies of the portrayal of Ancient Egypt. Carter wasn't much better. I wanted to strangle them both.

Walt, whilst not sharing my enthusiasm or intense annoyance at them, had the decency to keep quiet, though I had no doubt Anubis was whispering similar thoughts in his head. I appreciated the sentiment, but Egyptian Mythology whizzes did tend to put a damper on viewings of plays such as this.

Honestly though, why did they insist on being such buzzkills?

Just before the interval I poked Walt "Wait for it, this is the best part, I love Ramesses!"

Walt glanced at me, a little annoyed. "No you don't, Sadie. You love me."

Looking back now I see that it was probably Anubis speaking, not really understanding teenage crushes. Unfortunately at the time my brain cells had short-circuited and couldn't quite understand that. Still, it startled me long enough that I missed the start of the performance, temporarily deaf to the sounds of an eerily familiar voice singing the familiar song. When I was finally able to tear my eyes away from Walt to look back at the stage, I realised who was playing Ramesses II - and why they were so familiar.

I'm ashamed to admit I gave a little shriek.

It was bloody Setne.

"Walt?" Carter asked, leaning round Zia to fix concerned - but filled with no small amount of amusement - eyes on what I was sure was a panicking face. "What did you do to my sister to make her look like she's had a heart attack?"

Walt examined my face with that same quiet but stoic love that he always bore. He finally concluded his search with, "I have absolutely no idea."

"It's Setne," I whispered, half to myself. I wasn't scared, per se, but you try discovering that the criminal ghost who's evaded capture for thousands of years and was currently being hunted by your father, happened to be on the stage right in front of you, belting out the lyrics to one of your favourite songs. It's enough to get you a bit shaken, suffice to say.

At the hated name, Zia jerked her head up to fix her amber eyes on Ramesses. They widened significantly. "She's right," she muttered, and let out an Egyptian curse that I would translate, but I'd like for this recording to stay PG rated. Let's just say it involved Setne, a _khopesh_ , and a magician with unusual skills.

Carter had paled remarkably and if you looked at him closely you could see the faint tremors in his body. Poor boy. After all, as far as I knew, his last encounter with the felon had ended with him in a straightjacket trussed up on a peninsula by the Sea of Chaos, needing his little sister to rescue him. I can imagine that would leave some scars.

Clearly, I would have to take charge here. Fortunately, at that moment Setne stopped singing (you had to hand it to the guy: he wasn't exactly terrible) and the lights came back on to signal the interval.

"Alright," I clapped my hands together, then pointed at Zia and Walt. "You two stay here and watch the initiates, in case some nasty thing tries to eat them again or something. Make sure Felix's penguins stay far away from the ice cream sellers. Carter and I will handle this."

Walt looked sceptical, like he was about to protest, but he knew better than to cross me when I was possibly the best hope we had in this situation. Zia frowned, but then she looked over at the kids and her frown hardened into resolve.

Carter still looked nervous at the prospect of facing Setne, but at least he didn't look like he was going to wet his pants any time soon.

As we exited the auditorium, I turned to him and smiled wickedly. "Ready to recapture a murderous criminal ghost, brother dear?"

* * *

 _ **~ Carter**_

So, yeah. Sadie gives me the microphone in the short time I'm off stage, instead of letting me get my bearings. Thanks, sis.

[Where are we now? Oh, you'd just spotted Setne, and dragged me off with you. Seriously, that's as far as you got? How much did you ramble?]

So, I was as shocked as Sadie was. I mean - there was Setne! In plain sight! Dressed like Elvis!

Enough to surprised even the most seasoned magician.

So, here I am, getting dragged along by my little sister, who is certifiably insane. [Ow! Stop pinching me! I've got a few minutes before I have to go back on stage, and you're wasting valuable narration time by arguing with me?] I mean, she just told Zia and Walt, two very powerful magicians, that we didn't require their assistance.

I'm flattered by her faith in me; I really am. But I think her faith in herself might be a bit misplaced.

[Ow, again! What did I say about no pinching!?]

So, Setne's giving me the evil eyes again, so I'll keep this short.

Everything went to the Duat (Can we say that? Everyone else says that stuff goes to Hell, and the Duat isn't much better…) in a handbasket.

[What do you mean the saying doesn't sound as good without the alliteration? Is that really what you're focusing on right now?]

We got backstage, easily. By "easily" I mean we had to dodge a few actors and makeup artists and such, and that those we couldn't dodge we had to knock out with a well placed _Ha-wi_ spell, but overall, we got through without meeting certain death, which is always a bonus.

For the Kanes, that substitutes as "easily".

Backstage, unfortunately, was a different story. Apparently even during the interval the actors were still milling about and working, tweaking their costumes, running through their lines. [Oh, I have no idea why, Sadie. It's not like they're _paid_ to do so.] So it was much harder than intended when we barged through the door without a second thought, and were promptly suffocated by a whirl of fabric as last minute edits were made to the costumes, as Joseph's multi-coloured coat was rushed back and forth and back and forth and back and forth and back and forth. I don't know if all backstages are like that, but amidst all the chaos, I can't blame them for not noticing two teenagers, a girl and a boy, one wearing an LA Lakers t-shirt, and the other with streaks of her hair dyed a bright cherry red.

But then we paused next to a rack of vibrant scarlet outfits - all fitted for a woman's figure, all revealing enough to make blood rush to my cheeks. Then I thought back to the scene where Joseph got fired and imprisoned because of his master's wife's interest in him, and I blushed harder.

Sadie, thank the gods, didn't seem to notice.

"Get _back_ ," she hissed, and shoved me up against the wall as she yanked the rack of clothes to cover us as she ducked behind them with me. Not a moment too soon; a brisk, no nonsense woman strode by half a second later, pins pressed between her lips, and a sash of colourful fabric draped over her arm. By her pinched, severe face, and her irritated air, I suspected that she would not have taken kindly to finding two children hiding crouched behind her cache of precious clothes.

"Alright," Sadie hissed them, snapping my thoughts back to the present situation. "So we just need to find Setne, bind him up somehow, then send him on his way down to Dad. How are we going to do this?"

I swallowed, then said, "First things first: Find Setne. Then we can use the Twelve Ribbons of Hathor to bind him up-"

"Do you know how long their recharge time is!?"

"I didn't realise you were planning on tying a more important person up in the next twelve months." I bit back acidly. "I'm sorry if this is an inconvenience to your plans, but this is _Setne_. You think anything will be more important than this?"

Sadie huffed, and flattened her lips into a line, but she conceded the point, which was a miracle in itself. Then she said, "How are we sending him down to Dad?"

I swallowed a smile; it wasn't everyday she respected my leadership.

"Did Amos explain to you how to summon that boat, with the coat and everything?" I asked. She nodded.

"Yeah; he told me the last time he had the chance to visit. But where will we get the…" She looked around, and the wicked look on her face made me cringe away purely out of habit, even if, for once, it wasn't at my expense. "I see."

* * *

Let's get this straight: the Kanes, and subtlety, are mutually exclusive.

[Shut up, Sadie. You know it's true.]

But - and I say this with a certain amount of pride - we somehow pulled it off. Sadie performed the invisibility spell she'd learned from Zia, I snuck in and stole one of the many technicolour dream coats they had back stage [What do you mean you feel betrayed, Sadie, of course there were going to be lots of them. Did you really think there'd only be one, like in the play? _Fiction_ , sis, _fiction_ ] and was waiting in a dark corner no actors went near for Sadie to finish whatever it was she'd decided to do.

From where I was, I heard much cursing and conversation, and what sounded like someone stumbling about and crashing into things (I hoped it wasn't Sadie, though it would be just like her to do that) [We! Said! No! Pinching!] before I heard the word, " _TAS_ " shouted with so much fervour it could only be her, and my darling sister turned up again dragging the ancient magician behind her trussed up like a Thanksgiving turkey.

Sadie dumped him at my feet, and did whatever magic stuff she had to do in order to summon that boat (I wasn't paying attention, okay?) whilst I knelt down and took the _shabti_ doll I'd summoned from that locker in the Duat. Clutching the dream coat in one hand, I crushed the figurine against it with the other, until the entire fabric was slimy with wax. Then I spoke a few words and the coat began to hover, and position itself like a real person.

I turned to Setne, who was still bound and gagged on by the pink ribbons, and had to ask, "Why? Why put yourself in the public eye and ruin a perfectly good performance like this?"

His voice came out muffled. Looking back, I have to admit it was a blessing that we couldn't hear him speak; I'm not sure how much of his manipulative utter nonsense I could've taken without strangling him myself. So all I understood was the words, "Father. . . Ramesses. . . Shadow. . . Execrate. . . Spell"

I decided it was probably better I didn't know.

"Are you ready yet, Sadie?" I asked, eyeing the hot-pink bundle of a ghost before me.

"Just about," she wiped her hands on her clothes, then she grabbed Setne's bound arms, whilst I grabbed his legs. We awkwardly hefted him into the boat. The rainbow coat peered over my shoulder at him in something akin to curiosity, and I started, but quickly regained my composure.

[Shut. Up. Sadie.]

Sadie started to talk to the garment, and gave it directions down to the Duat and I (apparently very stupidly, according to her) asked, "Won't the magic just do it for you?" She ignored me, as usual.

We watched the boat fade away into nothing but shadows and mist.

I breathed a sigh of relief. "Now we can finally go back to the others and enjoy the rest of the play in peace."

Sadie placed a hand on my shoulder. That should've been my first warning; she's rarely that affectionate towards me. "About that," she said. "If we want to cover up what we did here from the ordinary humans, we need to get a replacement Ramesses."

I frowned. "Didn't Setne have an understudy?"

"It's possible I had to knock him out in order to get to Setne, and that he's now lying unconscious on the floor a few rooms away."

"Then who's going to go up there on stage? The interval's over in another five minutes."

She squeezed my shoulder. My eyes fell on the clothes rack in the corner that held the costumes for the character. I would never understand _what_ , exactly, inspired the playwright to model Ramesses II's character off of Elvis Presley, but I imagine in any other situation - namely one where the actor wasn't a murderous ghost our father was tirelessly trying to track down - it would be funny.

The penny dropped.

My jaw flew open as I whirled to confront her, only to find her smirking.

Sometimes, I really hate my sister.

"I have an idea, brother dear."


End file.
